


Draconic Haze

by AlannaRose, CheetahLeopard2, idontevenlogic, nightshade002



Series: Blame The Discord [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dragons, M/M, Marriage, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14728070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannaRose/pseuds/AlannaRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheetahLeopard2/pseuds/CheetahLeopard2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontevenlogic/pseuds/idontevenlogic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightshade002/pseuds/nightshade002
Summary: Lavender. Warmth. The touch of cold scales. Countless hours spent aimlessly lost just feeling what was around. Sight essentially nonexistent. There must be something more? Right?





	Draconic Haze

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE COMMENT K THANKS~

Who… is he? What is this place? Why is he here? He muses upon these questions, not particularly bothered with finding the answers. Surrounding him is not what he sees, but what he senses remains undistorted. His sight is blurred,  _ warped _ . There’s an acrid tint to everything, and nothing is clear. Not that that matters to him.

He doesn’t know what he is. The realization seems as though it should be startling, but instead it’s an acceptance, a fact of life that is significant but still means nothing in his eyes.

After all, when you know nothing there’s nothing to worry over. Ignorance is bliss.

All he knows is the things he feels, the things he senses. The smell of burning incense, a lavender scent that masks everything else. The warmth radiating from a small fire, constantly glowing, never going out. The feel of a feather pillow under his back is comforting, inviting and a clear contrast to the occasional feeling of scales brushing his skin.  _ The scales _ . They used to bother him, but now they’ve become just one more constant in his meaningless life.

Meaningless… that doesn’t sound right to him. He has a purpose, there is nothing that exists without reason. 

Aimless. He has a reason. Has that reason been fulfilled? Is that why he is free? Because he is untethered from truly insignificant things. Trivial matters of reason and agency are nothing to him. He feels nothing, sees nothing. Is that truly freedom? Is that truly? What he wants? Does he want something? To have a desire is to have a feeling. He enjoys these…  _ feelings?  _  Where is he what is he whyish edoes h ehave a namewhat is _m y_ NAME?

Nothingness. ‘ _ No emotion. No feeling. You are only there to be pretty.’ _

And all sensation is gone again, and he relapses into his blissful, blissful, _gilded cage of_ ignorance.

He doesn’t have any way to measure time. Time as a concept isn’t something he knows. Or, well, that he  _ knew _ . Until now. Something is wrong. No. Not wrong.  _ Different.  _ The lavender is… gone? He can? See burst of flame? He knows what flame  _ is? _

He isn’t sure he likes it. With awareness comes responsibility. Is that something he wants? 

That is a  _ choice? _ He’s questioning. With his new awareness he knows he’s never been allowed to question this much.

Where is he what is he why is he does he have a name what is  _ my NAME _ ? 

He gasps awake, jolting into a sitting position flooded with sensation of a body and one syllable rolling off of his lips with his first breath of air.

“ _ Tooru. _ ”

The heat from the flame is gone. The fire is gone. A freezing chill of uncertainty crawls it’s way down his back. 

“Whoa hold on!” A familiar figure rushes over to… his body?  “Lay back down Tooru you’ve been unconscious since I got here-”

“Where is here?”

The figure pauses, looks at him, “The dragon’s lair.”

_ Tooru _ looks at him blankly, “The what?”

Whatever the figure replies is lost in favor of another syllable coming to mind, “Iwa.”

The figure looks at him, pain written in the furrow of his brow, “What?”

“Iwa.” Tooru repeats, pleased “Iwa Iwa Iwa!” 

_ Iwa  _ looks confused and worried now, it’s written in every motion he makes, every line of his face.

Tooru has barely gained back enough knowledge to know he shouldn’t be able to recognize these things easily in a stranger. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, there’s a chilled  _ sensation _ on his cheeks, and he’s surprised to lift his  _ hand _ and find tears there. 

Looking back up he sees his reflection in Iwa’s watery eyes. Gently, impulsively, he gives in to the urge to reach up and cup Iwa’s cheek. A dense emotion grows inside his chest and he can’t help the bright smile that blooms. 

Iwa brings one of his own hands up to rest on top of Tooru’s. It’s rough, but it doesn’t feel the same as the hard scales. It’s colder than them too. Tooru can’t help his own curiosity. He takes Iwa’s hand and gently brings it towards himself.

Iwa laughs, it’s a watery, bubbled-up sound, “What are you doing?”

“Iwa.” Tooru says absentmindedly, ignoring the question even as he carefully places Iwa’s hand on his hair. The best crown he could ask for. “Why do I exist?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Is it…” Tooru hesitates, remembering an impression of words, before his last renewal. An impression of a source that was no longer in existence, “to look pretty?”

“No?” Iwa seems genuinely confused, “You are so much more than your looks. You’re kind and determined and hardworking.”

“Thank you Iwa-” There was something wrong with that. Something unsettling about only ‘Iwa’. As though something were  _ missing _ , and it reminded Tooru. “Iwa… I know you. Who are you?”

‘Iwa’ looks as though his world had shattered, “I-” his voice cracks, breaks like his heart had, “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“No?” Tooru objects, “That’s  _ wrong.” _ it’s the kind of wrong that chills Tooru to the bones, “You’re not  _ Iwaizumi _ . You’re Iwa… Iwa… Iwa-chan!” The final syllable is like a breath Tooru had been holding in for far too long. A sense of relief washed over him, because this. This felt  _ right. _

Tooru smiles again, stunning in the fading light, yet Iwa-chan’s expression is still solemn with tears quietly being blinked away, carefully hiding the terror he thought Tooru wouldn’t see in his eyes.  

His smile fades. “Am I… I’m wrong?” he asks quietly. He doesn’t know Iwa-chan - well, maybe he does - but he doesn’t want to be the cause of his anguish.

“No! Y-you’re not wrong!” Iwa-chan responds quickly, but it only makes Tooru feel worse that Iwa-chan thinks he needs comforting now.

Tooru leans forward towards where Iwa-chan is kneeling besides him, ignoring his widening eyes as he cups Iwa-chan’s face in his hands, clumsily wiping away the tears with as much care as he can, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t… you don’t remember anything else,” Iwa-chan asks desperately. Tooru searches is mind just as desperately. Something inside him wants to find what the other is asking for, needs to find it. But he can’t.

“You really don’t” Iwa-chan murmurs, curling slightly in on himself, as though Tooru were something he needs to be protected from.

Or as though Tooru were something he couldn’t bear to look at.

“There’s nothing…” Tooru shrinks back into himself, his voice going small and defeated, “Am I broken?”

Iwa-chan looks at Tooru again, sharp but considering.

“Not broken,” Iwa-chan’s tone is more confident, hope and determination spilling from every word, “Just a bit bruised. You fell but I  _ will  _ help you get back up again.”

Tooru smiles, noting the cracks in Iwa-chan’s, even as the conviction in his voice grows stronger, “I can help you too.”

Iwa-chan’s expression morphs into one of surprise, before softening back into a smile. A genuine one, that makes way for happy tears, “You always have Tooru, and you always will.”

Tooru’s eyes widen as the words echo, unlocking  _ something _ in him. 

He sees everything in flashes.

Flashes of two boys growing up together, of feelings growing between them.

A ring pair of rings exchanged under the secretive moon. The pale light capturing a promise made that would forever change their future. 

A memory of them as young adults, laying in bed and whispering vows of forever to each other.  _ “Someday we’ll be married.”  _ the younger Tooru whispers,  _ “and I’ll make you the happiest man in the universe.” _

_ “You always have Tooru, and you always will.”  _

And then a conflict. An upset. A dragon burning the kingdom. 

A trade. Peace for the prettiest thing in the kingdom. 

The prettiest  _ person _ in the kingdom.

**Author's Note:**

> The dragon? Yeah that was Wakatoshi.


End file.
